Better Days
by Hraap
Summary: Xanxus knows what the weight of leadership feels like. He knows how it can settle like a cloak on a man's shoulders, and raise him to new heights even as it drags him down into the abyss. The weight of loyalty is new, but no less heavy on his shoulders. Tsunayoshi is young, yes, but he's strong and he's unyielding, and Xanxus is more than ready to fight for him.


_Antebellum_

 **Summary:** For Vongola-Tales. Xanxus knows what the weight of leadership feels like. He knows how it can settle like a cloak on a man's shoulders, and raise him to new heights even as it drags him down into the abyss.

The weight of loyalty is new, but no less heavy on his shoulders. Tsunayoshi is young, yes, but he's strong and he's unyielding, and Xanxus is more than ready to fight for him.

 **Prompt:** the dynamics of Tsuna's relationship with those around him(not necessarily romantic). You can choose who to write with Tsuna and whether it's a bunch of mini stories or one story focused on just Tsuna's days as a boss.

Getting called into the brat's office is never a pleasant experience. It usually means only a handful of things; either one of his men has fucked up, someone has stepped out of line and needs to be brought to heel, or Xanxus himself has done _something_ to piss the baby Boss off. Which is much more difficult than most would assume, especially given the tentative truce he and Sawada have been hashing out for the better part of two years.

It isn't perfect, but Xanxus usually has some kind of heads up for when he in particular does something wrong. None of those usual signs are showing up, so he can only assume someone needs to be shaken up a bit, or one of his lower-tiered members has gone and stuck their foot in their mouth.

Squalo seems to have come to that same conclusion, if his words are any indication. "So, who do you think it is this time?"

"You said Browning was giving you lip?"

"Yeah, but I _fixed_ that." Squalo's grin is dangerous. He quickly sobers. "Might have been Victor."

"He's not stupid enough to fuck with baby Boss." Saint-like patience Tsunayoshi might show for his own, but there are still hard limits in place. As long as those limits remain unchallenged, everything is more or less fine. Even Victor, adrenaline junky he is, wouldn't stoop to pushing the Boss' buttons after all the times Tsuna has let him off the hook – not to mention bailed him out of jail when his street racing landed him there. "What about Judas?"

"Off on a job. Micky?"

"With Biaggio on his trip to the States."

Those are the worst troublemakers gone then. Everyone else usually reserves their shit-making skills to Xanxus and his Captains. "Might be one of Sawada's people," Xanxus mutters. In which case, this must be a really fucking dire situation. The House deals with its own usually, just like the Varia does theirs and the CEDEF theirs. They intermingle at times, but for the most part when issues crop up it's usually the Captains that deal with it, not the Boss himself. If the Boss had to deal with every little issue, Sawada would have been in the hospital before five years had even passed from the stress.

If baby Boss is calling in the _Varia_ to deal with one of his own, it means the person is either a mole or a traitor of some kind, which means interrogations. And nobody does interrogation like the Varia. Not even the CEDEF, although that bunch could certainly be ruthless. The baby Boss might surround himself with intensely loyal people that are perfectly willing to kill for him, but that doesn't mean they know how to wring secrets out of people.

Takeshi Yamamoto has been Squalo's student for nearly ten years now, but that doesn't mean he's ever seen Squalo's method of slowly breaking fingers, tearing nails out of nailbeds and teeth out of gums by hand, and even (on one particularly memorable occasion) taking the eyes of their targets out so they can't see what's coming next. Only those in the chair ever see that, and none of them live to tell about it.

"You think that's it, then?" Squalo asks quietly as they turn down the hallway to the baby Boss' office. Smoking Bomb is at his desk, but his cigarette is clenched in his hand, his teeth grit and the sharp lines around his face have become even sharper.

 _I think that's exactly it,_ Xanxus thinks but doesn't bother saying. The look Gokudera directs at him tells him all he needs to know. It's a mixture of gratitude, helpless fury and disgust, none of it directed at them. Xanxus has been on both sides of the table before, so he knows how much this will eat at the younger man. This unspoken failure to catch the issues before they ever arose. Nobody is perfect, but in the mob, they need to be damn close. "Name?"

Three folders land in front of him, two more than he expects. "Two of them are from the CEDEF. One of them is ours." Gokudera's sneer is nearly on par with Bel's.

Squalo's eyebrows go up. "CEDEF's got moles."

He exchanges glances with Xanxus, who is already turning over the various problems this could present in his head. It isn't a pretty picture. Encrypted most of their shit might be, but most of the people in CEDEF learn the codes for said encryption within a month or two. He fingers the folders, wonders what kind of damage they're dealing with, and whether he and Squalo will be enough for this. "You want I should call Bel or Luss?"

"No need," Gokudera mutters, jerking his head sharply towards the door. "Boss is in there now doing damage control. We're damned lucky this didn't spread further before we caught it. One of the new kids in the CEDEF reported the activity, called it 'suspicious behavior'. Brat deserves a raise."

Xanxus peers down at the folders, memorizing faces and names. He doesn't know these men personally, but he doesn't necessarily need to. A master interrogator knows how to get into people's heads without knowing everything about them. Relying on background information or things like childhood friends isn't always a viable option. Learning how to know a person just by their facial features, what they wear, how they walk – that is how the Varia do it. And they do it well. Perhaps too well, some might choose to say.

He hands the files over to Squalo, and once he's done, sets the folders on fire. They're gone in a flash, no ashes left behind, nothing to ever say anything existed outside of their new knowledge.

"So," Xanxus says, casually tucking his hands into his pockets. "Where are our little moles at?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

The room they're locked in resembles a cellar to a degree. Large, open space, concrete floors and stone walls. Simple, but elegant in a way that Xanxus can appreciate. The Vongola don't bother with comfort for prisoners, or even the illusion of comfort. People that find themselves this far down - and it isfar down, with the only way in and out being the elevator - aren't likely to see the light of day again.

Xanxus lets Squalo enter the room first, knowing that with his long hair and lean figure he'll be mocked instead of feared. The room isn't particularly well-lit, so Xanxus can lean against the doorway and watch as his right hand slowly undoes their bravado and leaves the three shaking wrecks.

And of course as soon as they see Squalo, there's plenty of badmouthing and pitiful attempts to 'flex their muscles' - metaphorically, not literally - but Squalo ignores them all and goes straight for the heart of things. "I'm going to give you asshats one chance to start talking before I start ripping shit off you. You talk, and you go out with a single bullet to the brain. Or you refuse, and I start with your feet and end with your head. What's it gonna be?"

Of course they refuse. So of course Squalo kneels by the first one, takes his shoe off, and rips his big toenail out. The screams border this side of unholy, and the other two are nearly the color of the floor by the time Squalo pulls back and flicks droplets of blood from his fingers.

"Let's try that again. Wanna talk, tough guy?"

"G-g-g-o fu-fuck yourse-self!"

"Guess not." Squalo turns to glance casually over his shoulder. "Boss, you want to try the next one? It'll go faster with two of us."

Xanxus lets himself walk out of the shadows, hands tucked into his pockets, red eyes gleaming, a deadly smirk on his features. One of the men pisses himself at the sight of Xanxus, and isn't that just _flattering._

"Sure," he grins. "Hand me the scalpel."

0-0-0-0-0-0

The interrogation nets Xanxus and Squalo the information they're looking for, as well as some other information that nobody expects to hear. Turns out one of CEDEF's higher-ups is an agent from an enemy family, and he's been feeding information through the system for _months._

"Sawada's gonna have a fucking conniption." Xanxus wipes his hands clean, grimacing. "This is gonna kill him."

"Not his fault. Well no, it is kind of his fault. He didn't fire Iemitsu when he had the chance."

"That was my old man more than Sawada," Xanxus sneers. "Fucker begged Sawada to let him stay on, said 'he'll be a good starting asset to your team, if you're unsatisfied with him you can replace him later, but you need him right now'. And look where its fucking got us."

"Brat always had a soft spot for your old man."

"Old man fucking played him like a fiddle. He knew he could, that Sawada was a civilian without any kind of fucking _experience_ in the art of manipulations. As if manipulating a fucking thirteen year old kid is some great feat to be proud of." He throws the rag down. "No point holding back. Let's go and give him the bad news."

"You sure?"

"Only thing we got. Kid's gotta learn to roll with the punches."

He barges into the office without so much as a knock only to be brought short at the sight before him. It seems baby Boss has become a lot more proactive in his approaches to dealing with stupidity since the last time he and Xanxus talked, because he's got Sawada - the older one - by the throat pinned up against the wall and is snarling in his face. "—your and Nono's mess."

"Oh so its _our_ mess now? It was your mess before all this went to hell, but now its our mess?" Iemitsu demands in a snotty tone that makes Xanxus want to blow his brains out. Especially considering just who he's taking the tone with. Tsunayoshi deserves a fucking _sainthood_ for putting up with Iemitsu's bullshit in Xanxus' books.

"It's _always_ been your mess, Iemitsu! Ever since you and that stupid fucking old man decided I wasn't anything more than your pawn to play with, its always been **your** mess. So guess what? Now you get to clean up _your_ mess. _Your_ section was the one with the spies, the one with the moles, the one with the information leak. I told Nono I'd keep you on to shut him up, but if I knew then what I know now I wouldn't have bothered. I'd have told him to go fuck himself and put Reborn in the spot like I wanted to from the very beginning!" He throws Iemitsu aside, the man grunting as he regains his feet, rubbing at the bruise around his neck.

Xanxus realizes the kid's burning with Flame, that his gloves have become metal, his Vongola ring gleaming in the light. He looks like a proper boss right now, and Xanxus kind of wants to kneel and kiss his ring in a show of unified support to get Iemitsu to shut the fuck up.

"And after you're done cleaning your mess up, you can pack up your shit and you can leave, Iemitsu. I'm done dealing with your bullshit and your mistakes. I've got a family to run - I don't have time for failures."

 _Ouch,_ that's cold. Squalo's nodding though, and Xanxus agrees. Still, its a sign of just how far Tsunayoshi's come that he's able to say those words without stammering or appearing like he doesn't mean them. Xanxus almost feels proud.

Iemitsu snarls something, and when Tsunayoshi turns his back in clear dismissal, reaches for his jacket.

In a second Xanxus has his X-gun pressed against the back of his skull, a terrifying grin taking over his features. "Go on," he rumbles, "Give me an excuse."

Iemitsu turns the color of milk and freezes even as Superbi's sword slides under his chin and Tsunayoshi glances over his shoulder at them.

"You're late," he chastises. "Did you find out what you needed?"

"We did," Xanxus says, grabbing Iemitsu by the shoulder, pivoting him and kicking him out the door. He slams the door shut before tucking his gun away and giving into the temptation to approach and kneel. As usual Tsuna's bewildered expression as he kisses the ring sends a shiver of satisfaction up his spine. The kid still treats him kneeling at his feet like its some kind of priceless treasure being given to him. Xanxus likes that, likes that Tsunayoshi doesn't take him or his loyalty for granted.

"Right," Tsuna says after Xanxus rises. "What did you learn?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Here is what Xanxus knows about Tsunayoshi, broken down over a series of weeks and months beyond that as they attempted to get to know one another and make their relationship better.

Tsunayoshi is tired long before he takes the mantle of Vongola Decimo. It isn't the kind of tired that comes from a long walk or a run up a mountain. It's the exhaustion that lies deep inside someone's soul, when the world has swung and swung and swung again, and each time left that person in the dirt, bloody and bruised. He is tired but continues to rise each day so that he can see the people he loves, because he knows as tired and worn as he is, his death would damage them irreparably, and so he gets up and continues onward even as the world keeps swinging at him.

Tsuna takes the mantle not out of obligation, but because he sees it as a way to further protect his friends. And this is also why he quickly gathers his forces and makes himself known as a threat among the mafia leaders, among enemies. Why his name is whispered among the smaller families, why people avoid eye contact with him. Because so long as they fear Vongola, and by extension him, they will never touch his Guardians or his friends. They fear his wrath too much.

Tsuna's friends are his world, and up close Xanxus sees just how soft Tsunayoshi's heart really is. He hides behind armor crafted by Reborn, puts on a mask and faces the world day after day, never knowing if this will be his last. Never knowing if going outside will yield sunny days and celebrations with his friends or a knife in the back and a bullet in the skull. Xanxus does his best to add on to Tsunayoshi's armor, picking the pieces out of his own worn hide and adding them to the holes in Tsuna's, murmuring in his ear, warning him about this or that threat, opening his eyes to the secrets of the world around him.

 _Soft,_ Nono had once called Tsunayoshi. _Malleable,_ he'd meant. _Puppet,_ he'd thought but never said.

Tsunayoshi is soft, but he is not malleable, and he sure as fuck is no one's puppet. Reborn gets away with all he does because Tsuna cares about him enough to allow it. If he hated Reborn, he would fight the kicks, the words, the smirks and the jokes. Reborn is trusted, and so he is allowed, the same way Xanxus is. And in turn, Reborn and Xanxus kneel and pledge themselves to the man who holds them so securely in his palm. Who might one day hold the world itself, if that is his desire.

Tsunayoshi is strong. When his friends are in danger, when the things he loves are put on the line, Tsunayoshi becomes a steel wall, impenetrable, impossible to go around or under or over. He doesn't move, he makes others move for him. And that is what he does with the Milanesi, who comes after his information, after names and faces and weaknesses. Tsuna becomes a wall, and crushes them.

His name and face are passed around, and once again the mafia whispers how _cruel_ he is, how _terrible_ a leader he must be. He must be forcing people into servitude, they think. Xanxus sees it in their eyes, and thinks back to when Tsuna gently ushered the children of his enemies out, held the babes that would have grown up to be soldiers in his arms beneath his cloak, how he kept them safe even as their own family tried to mow them down in a hail of gunfire.

How, when it was all over, they looked at Tsuna like he was the only person that mattered. And how Tsuna, instead of abusing that, knelt and smiled and promised to find them homes with people that would be kind to them. How he kept that promise, and is still keeping that promise. How the children visit with drawings of him and he gives them treats and affection and toys and they all adore him.

This is what Tsunayoshi is, and this is what Xanxus can admit only to himself that he respects about the man.

Tonight they're at another showy ball, and people are laughing and talking and acting happy, but all eyes are on Tsunayoshi. Dressed in all white he makes a resplendent sight, and Xanxus can't stop his eyes from wandering time and again. Anyone watching him watch Tsunayoshi would think him angry, think him jealous, and that's because Xanxus has learned how to manage his expressions. Outside, he appears disgruntled because he's been dragged to this hellish nightmare, but on the inside he is always watching to make sure Tsunayoshi is safe.

If Tsuna knows he's staring, he doesn't acknowledge it. Sometimes Xanxus wonders if Tsunayoshi is aware of what goes on in his head. There are times when Xanxus kneels and he can feel the burning sensation of that gaze on him. When their eyes meet, it feels like Tsuna can see through him, but the moment always passes and Xanxus is wondering what Tsuna sees. If he does see, and simply doesn't care, or if he doesn't see and wonders. Perhaps he'll never know.

But tonight word passes about the fall of the Milanesi, and when someone boldly asks Tsuna about it, the man tilts his head just so as to give himself an disarming appearance and smiles softly. "I heard about that. A bit of bad luck on their part, don't you agree?"

 _Bad luck._ Xanxus licks his lips and smiles. That's one way of saying _they crossed me and I put them in their place for it._ Already people are reading the words as they're meant and seeing the delicate threat laid out between the words. They are wisely stepping back, and rethinking future interactions with the Decimo.

"What do you think, boss?" Squalo murmurs in his ear. "Think they'll try something?"

Xanxus looks at the allies that don't quite agree with Tsuna's Vongola, at the people who were friends with the fallen family that are smiling a little too widely, or a little too tightly. "Not tonight," he returns. It's almost a pity; a little chaos right now would certain help burn out some of the hot anger that's been simmering in his stomach ever since he learned about the moles. The torture helped, but it only took the edge off. He needs more.

He's tempted to start something. But his loyalty to the Family comes first, and right now the Family is calm and waiting for their enemies to make the next move. So Xanxus shoves a stopper into his increasing desire for violence and tells himself he'll go hunting later when there are better enemies to chew on.

As the night wears on, he watches Tsunayoshi laugh and smile from beyond the mask, watches as people poke and prod in an attempt to discern possible weakness, and watches as his own Guardians and Sawada's blend together within the crowds, a dozen protectors all ready to kill to keep the Family's heart safe. Xanxus watches and occasionally changes perches as Tsunayoshi moves, his jacket hiding his hands laid over his guns, ready to whip them out at a moment's notice and fire at the first person to try something.

But nothing happens. The night ends, people return home to whisper conspiracies and plots to one another, and Tsunayoshi smiles and drops his mask, earnestly thanking them for their support. Xanxus stays around just long enough to make sure the brat's Guardians follow him back towards his office, and then he dips out, his own six on his heels.

0-0-0-0-0-0

If Xanxus has to put a fine point on when things change between him and Tsunayoshi once again, he would say it was probably the night in the gardens.

Sleep is treacherous for him. Half the time sleep comes only when he's crowded by familiar, trustworthy faces. He sleeps on jets and planes, on rides to missions because he knows his team will watch him and make sure he stays safe. He trusts them to do that, and so trusts enough to fall asleep in their presence. And the other half of the time, when sleep _does_ come without aid, he dreams of being back in the ice, of cold and steaming hatred beneath his chest, of words left unsaid and the desperate, maddening urge to scream at the sky until his throat bleeds.

On those nights, when sleep comes and nightmares follow, all Xanxus can do is get up and walk away until the nightmares stop following, and sleep beckons him again. The night following the ball is one such night; he falls asleep around late evening, sleeps for maybe four hours, and then wakes to find his rooms dark, the moon bright in his windows, and sweat pouring off his body, the eerie sensation of ice against his skin still haunting him.

He grits his teeth and coaxes the shuddering muscles in his legs and arms to relax even as the dream replays in his head, and adrenaline pumps hard into his system. There's some miniscule comfort to be found in the fact that the dreams about the ice always take place in the same space of time - between the moment he kicked down the door and faced his old man, and the time he was trapped in that ice, able to see and hear but not interact. He's not sure he would be able to stand it if the dreams jumped around.

Eventually once he's a little steadier, Xanxus allows himself out of bed, and heads towards the shower. There he lets the world disappear in the steam, and leans against the tile with the water turned on as hot as it will go until he starts feeling like a human being again, and the nightmares have faded back into the darkness. He roughly drags a towel over his hair and throws some clothes on, and then heads for the door.

He doesn't have an exact destination in mind - he never does for his night walks. He just needs to _go_ and he does. Tonight his legs lead him out the door and towards where the motorcycles are. He grabs the keys, a pack of smokes, and hits the road before someone can see him and come after him. He doesn't want guards tonight - doesn't need them. He left his jacket and his guns back in his room, but even without them he's still a force to be reckoned with.

The roads are blissfully quiet at night in Milan. He takes the backroads which feel too familiar to ignore, and finds himself on the path leading to the Vongola main house before he realizes it. It's too late to turn around even if he wanted to - if anyone asks, Xanxus will simply say he's there for his own personal reasons. Nobody every asks what those are unless they're looking to die, in which case Xanxus will gladly assist them.

To his surprise however, as he drives around and up the gravel path, he spots the baby boss himself in the garden, staring up at the sky. Pulling to a stop, he turns off the ignition and tucks the keys into his pocket. He doubts anyone will mistake the bike for one of Vongola's.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" he drawls as he reaches the baby boss. The kid turns his head, and—

 _Oh._ Well, guess Xanxus isn't the only one having nightmares tonight.

"Xanxus?" Tsunayoshi asks. "What are you doing here?"

Xanxus plops down beside him on the stone bench without asking, withdrawing the pack of smokes and offering it wordlessly to the kid. Tsuna actually takes one, which tells him a lot more than it should. He lights his own up, and then presses the tip of it to Tsuna's. It's only after a couple of quiet intakes that he answers the question. "Went for a drive and ended up here. What's your excuse?"

Tsuna tries for a smile, but its a broken, flickering thing. "Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."

Xanxus doesn't press him, doesn't say _its the nightmares isn't it?_ They both know why he's here and why Xanxus is here - because the kid isn't stupid enough to believe you can trap someone in ice made of Flame with their eyes wide open for nearly eight years and not come out of it with some fucked up scars and mental issues. Xanxus is a product of his upbringing to a point - and after that point he's a product of what his old man did to him.

There's no pressing need to talk about this though, just like there's no need to talk about what lurks behind Tsuna's eyes when nobody turns theirs away. Xanxus knows what the weight of leadership feels like. He knows how it can settle like a cloak on a man's shoulders, and raise him to new heights even as it drags him down into the abyss.

The weight of loyalty is new, but no less heavy on his shoulders. Tsunayoshi is young, yes, but he's strong and he's unyielding, and Xanxus is more than ready to fight for him. Not that he'd ever tell anyone that. There are just some secrets a man keeps to himself, and he has a particular reputation to maintain.

"Walk or ride?" he asks once he's stubbed the cigarette out. He hates the taste of them compared to his alcohol, but no amount of alcohol will chase tonight away. Tonight is an enemy meant to be torn asunder and left to drown in its own blood, and Xanxus does not make a habit of facing his enemies anything less than sober.

Tsuna's eyes sharpen somewhat as Xanxus offers choice and direction on how tonight will go. He's used to this kind of balance with Reborn. So Xanxus will offer the paths for Tsuna to choose as he leads, and Tsuna follows and guards his back while Xanxus makes sure they can continue to go forward until dawn finds them.

"Garden," Tsuna says. "I have no desire to get on your hellish nightmare of a deathtrap tonight."

"That's what makes it a fun ride, brat," Xanxus snarks, but obligingly leads them towards the start of the garden.

The Vongola gardeners are madmen; of this he is absolutely convinced. Their plants grow large enough to belong in a jungle, and multiple and divide stupid fast. The colors seem to gain an otherworldly edge the farther in they go, and soon it feels like they've stopped being on the Vongola grounds altogether, and are instead in a wild, untamed forest. It doesn't help that some idiot decided to make it seem authentic, and brought back birds from halfway around the world to release into the place. He's halfway sure this place has its own ecosystem going by now.

"Does it ever get any easier?" Tsuna asks seemingly out of nowhere.

"You mean shit in general? No. Not around here. You want easy, tuck tail and head back to Japan. Of course if you do that—"

"I'll be marked a traitor and killed. I know." Tsuna rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. Xanxus can imagine laying his own hand over that spot, feeling the muscles pulled tight with tension. He knows from experience how painful it can be, how the tension grinds against the base of the neck and travels up until its a pounding headache that refuses to let go of the skull.

He's probably already swallowed down half a bottle of pain meds to help him ease through it. Kid's stubborn like that. Once upon a time Xanxus wouldn't have thought so, but he knows better now.

"I probably sound like an idiot, wanting to know if life in the mob every gets easier."

 _You sound like you're stressed as shit,_ Xanxus thinks but doesn't say, choosing instead to keep his silence and his eyes moving. He isn't the brat's Guardian, and its not in his nature to be soft and wrap the kid in fuzzy blankets and tell him everything's going to be okay.

"It never gets easier," he says after a stretch of silence. "You just learn to adjust. You learn to survive. The you of five years ago would have died today. But you're still on your feet. Save the doom and gloom for days when you really need it."

The days when caskets will line the hallways, and it will look less like home and more like a funeral parlor. Xanxus knows those days, and he knows when that day finally comes, something in the kid will break and many more things will strengthen. That could very well be the day his sense of mercy stops existing, and his enemies regret all their past actions.

He won't know until that day comes. When it does though, he and the Varia will follow Tsunayoshi wherever he wants to go, and kill whoever he wants killed. On that day, Xanxus will gladly kneel before Tsunayoshi and kiss his ring in public, to show the masses just how badly they fucked up, that the Varia Commander of all people is ready to submit and obey a man called a _saint_ within their society.

"I suppose," Tsuna agrees. He tilts his head back to peer up at the thin slivers of sky between the branches. "I just wonder sometimes if I'm actually doing anything good with my time here. If I'm actually making changes, or if I'm just fooling myself into believing I am and no one else will tell me the truth because I'm the Boss."

It's a real concern, Xanxus knows. A valid one. There are Families that disagree with their leaders, but they're too afraid to raise their voices. Luckily, Sawada's family isn't one of them. Whatever masks he puts on for the outsiders aside, he's a good leader. He takes care of his people - Vongola wouldn't have lasted if he didn't.

But in this moment, that's not the kind of reminder Tsunayoshi's looking for. If he were with his Guardians, that might be the kind he'd accept, but only Xanxus is here now, so the duty falls to Xanxus. And fortunately he has one of the most powerful persuasions on his side.

"If you were that bad, I'd have already shot you myself. You've left plenty of opportunities."

 _Don't get comfortable in thinking you're invincible. Even if no one else can bring themselves to do it, I will always be willing to kill you if you step out of line._ It's the only kind of comfort he can offer - that the fact that Tsunayoshi is still alive and not dead by Xanxus' gun is proof enough of his leadership skills. They both know that if Xanxus wanted him dead, he'd be dead, and no amount of Guardians or best friends would save him.

"Is that so?" Tsuna asks. There's a smile growing on his face, and some of the darkness in his eyes has faded. "I see. Then if that's the case, I'll entrust my future to you. Please look after me."

Xanxus clicks his tongue, probably not as irritated as he should be by the turn of events. "Look after yourself, brat. I ain't your keeper."

"Just my executioner?"

"Damn straight."

"You're a very strange man, Xanxus." There's fondness in the kid's voice, and it makes his stomach flutter with something alien. Pride that he's resolved a problem before it even got started? That he's chased the kid's demons away for another night?

He snorts. "You got no damn room to talk, brat. I'm not the one trying to reform the damn mafia." Even now, the knowledge of what the kid's trying to do gives him the shivers. Not because of how impossible the task is, but because he knows Tsunayoshi can do it. He's toppled gods and monsters and every fucking thing else the world's thrown at him. If there's anyone in this god-forsaken place that can bring a system meant to ruin people to its knees, its him.

 _And isn't that why you kneel to him?_ A little voice in his head asks. _Because you've felt that power, that iron grip when he has what he wants right where he wants it at? He's got you pinned, and you allow it._

He brushes the thought aside.

"I suppose not," Tsuna agrees, tucking his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head back to peer up at the starry sky. "But still, its nice to know I have someone watching my back."

 _You have your Guardians to do that._ But that's not quite what he means. Xanxus doesn't say either of those things however, and together they finish the walk in silence. They come out the other side of the garden, and Xanxus heads back for the bike. Tsuna pauses on the front steps, watching as he kicks the bike to life.

"Drive safe," he says, and gives a little wave with his hand. "You're welcome here anytime."

Xanxus cranks the engine, listening to the rumble and pretending as though he didn't hear the extended invite to return. He'll come and go as he pleases, invite or no. He turns the bike and heads down the driveway, determined to keep his eyes on the road. But his gaze keeps drifting back to his side mirrors, where he can see Tsunayoshi still standing there, watching him.

His eyes are glowing, Xanxus realizes. They look like the color of the sunset.

He turns the bike, and the image vanishes. The sun is rising, a new day beginning, and Xanxus feels calmer than he has in a very long time.

0-0-0-0-0-0


End file.
